A Minute Disaster
by Koakuma Tsuri
Summary: Collection of the Genesis100 73-78. Random AUs, drabbles and crack. Pairings include Sephiroth/Genesis and Angeal/Genesis. With Mpreg and yaoi of course.
1. Chapter 1

Due to my extreme laziness, there have been a varied selection of stories festering in my files for quite some time. As they are so old, they're pretty naff so I've slung them all together because it looks nicer :3

73/100: Abstain. Sephiroth/Genesis  
Remember aaaall my other Mpreg fics? This is yet another part of that.

**

* * *

Abstain**

Priorities

His name was Alex and he seemed a nice enough boy. Tall, blonde and handsome; the second son of one of the materia scientists that worked on the 49th Floor. He was polite and cultured and intelligent – in essence, all Genesis could want in a first boyfriend for his eldest.

His name was Alex and he seemed a nice enough boy, but Sephiroth had already marked him as public enemy number 1. And all because the boy was showing a genuine interest in Kadaj…

Genesis had planned a pleasant meal, he recalled, but he spent most of it languidly pushing peas across his plate with a fork. His eyes were focused solely upon Sephiroth in a seat across the table, wedged between Kadaj and Alex like his very presence was a six-foot thick concrete wall build to keep them separate. For as long as possible.

And the man acted so cool and blasé about it, seeing nothing wrong; occasionally glanced up at Genesis and smiled, and commented on how nice the meal was.

The two teens sporadically glanced at each other and smiled, each time Kadaj mouthing an apology before Sephiroth snapped his head to look at him, instantly silencing him. Similarly, conversation was curt and clipped, more like how Sephiroth spoke to executives and subordinates than family members; more interrogating the poor boy than showing an active interest.

The redhead sat passively though his foot conveniently slipped into Sephiroth's shin whenever something inappropriate or something that conflicted with Genesis' beliefs passed through his lips. As far as he was concerned, there was no need for this. Protectiveness was one thing… _home-wrecking_ was another.

And then the entire scene had tessellated to the main living room, with the exception of Kadaj's little brother who had scurried away to the quieter territories of his room, preferring to re-enact battles that his parents had planned, fought and won with his mismatched figures rather than be a spectator in silent psychological warfare. There were times when Genesis felt oh-so-close to joining him.

Soon enough though, as the evening was drawing to a close and soon Alex would have to depart back to his parent's house outside of the ShinRa building, Sephiroth stood and took the young blonde outside of the apartment for… one of those talks that fathers apparently give to suitors to identify whether their intentions were honourable enough to respect. And Goddess forbid – allow. Angeal had already given Alex his seal of approval, which had to carry some weight – the man being able to sniff out despicable behaviour from one hundred miles away.

The poor boy looked terrified as he scampered behind Sephiroth's officious strut. Without doubt he was certain that past that door stood his own demise. Genesis felt as pitiful for the teen as he was angry at Sephiroth. They had spoken about the general's evident protectiveness before Alex had even arrived, but it stubbornly remained, never letting its presence be forgotten. Not for _one_ moment.

As soon as the door swung shut Kadaj turned to Genesis, green eyes flaring in his temper. He was the perfect mix of his parents – every resemblance of his father with every ounce of his mother's temperament. At 18 it was hard to see why some other teen hadn't tried to snap him up before… then again, he _was _Sephiroth's first-born son.

"Why is he intent on _ruining my life_?!" was spoken loud enough that Sephiroth was sure to have heard it on the other side of the front door. And so he should, Genesis looked at his son, eyes making clear his pride. Proud that Kadaj had finally found someone brave enough with enough confidence to present himself to two legends and manage to impress one… and that Genesis had taught him just to be a miniature, silver version of himself.

Genesis sighed and slung his legs over the other side of the sofa where he sat and transferred his gaze to his wine glass. "His speciality, I find."

Huffing in frustration, Kadaj flung himself back into the armchair, arms crossed and lips pouting. "It's not fair. He's going to scare Alex awa-"

"-if Alex likes you that much, there's nothing Sephiroth can do," Genesis assured with a smile. One of those smiles that made children instinctually know that their mother knew best and was always right. Without a question, contrary comment or doubt. Sometimes Genesis loved being a mother.

There was another sharp expulsion of air before silence between the pair. The only sounds came from the muffled murmurs from the corridor outside the apartment, the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchenette in the far corner of the room and Yazoo making strange noises and laughing in his room down the hall.

Then, what seemed like an eternity later, the door opened again and Sephiroth stepped into the room. Alone. But there was no blood on his suit, nor had that stoic expression left his face. Silently, the general made his way over to the sofa; picked Genesis' legs up before sitting down and settling them back over his lap.

Kadaj's gaze flickered between the door, his missing boyfriend and his father. "What did you do to him?"

Clearing his throat in a gesture that failed to give him any authority, Sephiroth simply replied. "His father called and requested him back home immediately."

Genesis rolled his eyes and lowered his glass down to the small lamp-table besides the large black leather couch. "Where are your manners, Sephiroth?" He then turned back up to Kadaj, whilst he fished around for something in his trouser pocket. "Catch up with him, Kadaj, walk him home." With a grin, the redhead tossed a small, square plastic wrapper at his son.

Kadaj caught it out of instinct and inspected it with a single glance in the palm of his hand. The expression on his face was somewhat stunned… and excited and all those other emotions that made Genesis' heart feel that little bit lighter. "You're the best, mum," the teen beamed, quickly thanked him and rushed out through the front door.

"I try," Genesis said to the empty air. But the calm didn't last long. Not when the temperature of the room was dropping rapidly. And the hands on his legs were gripping tighter and tighter.

"You just gave him-"

"What? Do you want him getting pregnant?" Genesis shot back cynically. Turning to Sephiroth, for the first time he saw the fright and disappointment that haunted mako green eyes.

There wasn't a question of why. Kadaj was growing up; he wasn't that sweet little boy any more, and soon Sephiroth would have to transfer all his duty of care over him to someone else. And after all the years, seeing Kadaj grow from a bump in Genesis' abdomen to the charming young man he was now, Sephiroth didn't exactly want to.

Sephiroth sighed and lessened his grip on Genesis' legs. "I still don't like it though."

Smirking, Genesis shuffled across the sofa so he was nestled tightly against his lover, breathing hot air down his neck where the collar of his white dress shirt failed to cover. "Don't you remember when we were that age? The things we got up to?" There was no shame in where Genesis let his hands wander; no contemplation in undressing him like he had oh-so-many times before.

"Yes," Sephiroth muttered, wholly unimpressed. He did not yield to the hands that caressed him, although he did move his own to transfer Genesis onto his lap so he could look straight into mischievous blue eyes that hadn't lost a single speck of colour and beauty over the years. "That's what I was warning Alex about."


	2. Chapter 2

74/100: Alcohol. Sephiroth/Genesis, implied Zack/Nero.  
Something short I did at college.

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* * *

Alcohol**

Dancing With Death

How Zack always seemed to lose himself so much to the welcoming grasp of alcohol would forever remain a mystery. Sephiroth knew how every man changed in different ways whilst under the influence, and observing it was thoroughly interesting. Angeal tended to lose his burden of pride and dreams and the need to lecture if anyone did anything he deemed reckless, and was left a smiling bundle of joy that would break out in song if even the first few bars of a song were whistled under breath.

In this state, Angeal was always easy pickings for his redheaded friend, whose sensuous nature was only increased by drink. There were times when this was as irritating and inappropriate as enjoyable. However, Sephiroth also knew, all too well, that there were those all but immune.

Green eyes watched the young 2nd Class over Genesis' head of crimson hair, as he sat by the bar with his young companion. The two were drinking the same spirits from the bottles lined up in front of them but one was certainly more afflicted than the other. If anything, surely it should be Nero who was spurting mindless drivel, being underage (if only the security department dared to enforce such rules in the bar claimed by SOLDIER). But Sephiroth suspected this might have had something to do with the childhood of growing up on cider, if Genesis' joking comments about himself proved to be a reality.

It was a strange feeling, the slight on/off wooziness caused by the emerald spirit that Genesis kept on pouring into the glass and down his throat; the tingles of pleasure from feather-light kisses down his neck to his chest and down, down, down until Genesis wasn't on his lap anymore (..and needed to be quickly pulled back up – and held there – to avoid a scandalous scene that would surely have every woman within shot of the media simultaneously imploding) and the morbid fascination of watching Zack flirt with what could be his own demise should Genesis turn and see. Even being as distracted as he was by anyone who would let him touch them, the General suspected that Genesis' fraternal instincts were strong enough to intervene.

Zack was putting on the entire show of SOLDIER, showing his muscles, flashing mako-blue eyes and gloating of enhanced stamina and strength. Sephiroth wondered if he knew that the pretty black haired teen staring at him in a bemused amusement with deep scarlet eyes was also a SOLDIER, albeit one that had, and was likely to stay that way for a while, see very little combat. But it was easy to see how Fair could have been fooled. The thought crossed his mind if Zack even realised who the teen was, or even what gender he was. On first glance with glossy black hair and dark lashes, the General had been fooled into thinking Genesis had a sister.

Genesis sighed sharply, sagging against Sephiroth's chest. The silk of his shirt was like warm butter against bare flesh. He was visibly defeated by his lover's lack of desirable response. Blue eyes followed Sephiroth's line of sight to the bar.

Surprised when Genesis didn't lunge for Zack for even daring to talk to his little brother let alone buy him drinks and flirt with him, Sephiroth questioned. "Aren't you slightly perturbed?"

The redhead turned back, blinking like a lazy cat and nestled back into his lover, contented… but not sated. "Nero's having fun, I did teach him after all. It's when Zack tries anything else he's in trouble."


	3. Chapter 3

75/100: Annoy. Angeal/Genesis  
Another short college-written fic.

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* * *

Annoy**

Fire and Ice

Angeal had planned to have an early night, having duties in the morning. But then Genesis had arrived, clutching a few bottles of a vicious liquor that Angeal had hoped his friend would be wise enough to avoid. Obviously, no such luck.

"You, sir," Genesis grinned, strolling in and heading straight for a certain room. Then perching on the end of the bed and unceremoniously dropping his cargo either side of his thighs, continued, "are utterly boring."

The black haired man sighed and shut the door. He had no choice but to follow.

"We have just graduated! I expect you to celebrate!"

"I was intending to… on my own… asleep."

Genesis picked up a green bottle and waved a contrary finger in his friend's direction. "On your own? Then why did you slip your key card into my back pocket during Sephiroth's speech?"

"In case of emergencies." Angeal rolled his eyes.

Genesis' eyes darkened how they did when in a mischievous mood; lips curved upwards into a smirk that was as fitting and natural upon his face as the stars were in the blank, black night's sky. Dropping the bottle back down, he started to undress himself teasingly slowly. "This is an emergency, Angel. I'm burning up."

Angeal let a smile grace his features and he turned into the adjoining bathroom.

Eagerly, Genesis stripped himself down and worked himself up, positioned himself and waited. But instead of warm hands, he found a dripping cold flannel on his flesh. It started at his ankles and slowly made the way, ghosting over his thighs but completely missing one certain area as a little payback for ruining the evening.

It was Angeal's turn to smirk and he continued until the redhead was shivering, wholly covered in a glossy sheen of water. "All better?"

Genesis mumbled a response, bitter and resentful.

"Now turn over and be glad I ran the lube under hot water."


	4. Chapter 4

76/100: Steal. Angeal/Genesis.  
Geegollygosh, I do so believe that this was written waaay back last April. When I was shopping with xlightfromabovex, I found an Adam and the Ants birthday card, and later was hit with this... as such, it's utter crack. Go listen to Adam and the Ants. Now. Get some good 80s Music into you.

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Steal**

Your Money or You Life

Dew glistened in the pale light of the morning sun. Amongst the buds of spring, songbirds heralded the coming of a new day. Still the night lingered. The breeze was snappish, reluctant to relinquish its icy grip on the open countryside. Mist swirled eerily slowly, biting at the legs of the carriage horses that traversed the expanse of rolling green fields on a well-beaten road.

The dead quiet was no consolation for the nerves of the driver of the rich, mahogany carriage. His dark eyes darted from one side to the other; ears always pricked to listen out for a rustle of bushes, a cock of a pistol and galloping horse hooves over that of his own. If any such thing happened they were helpless. The army and police may be trying to catch and hang all of the ominous rogues that haunted these isolated, essential roads but everyone knew that an invisible enemy could not be defeated.

-

This wasn't so much of an occupation that required knowing, as much as patience. And he had plenty of that. So much so, he was renowned by both sides of the law for it. Drivers and debutantes got no warning where he could and would be, and when he would attack and other deviants prayed they didn't stumble across his home turf.

Angeal sat atop his grand sable mare, partially concealed behind the great trunk of an ancient oak. He faced the road, eyes closed and listening. He could hear the approaching ruckus of two trotting horses and the constant rumble of accompanying wheels.

When they were a few yards away, he gently tapped his heels against his mount, rousing her from a light standing slumber. He took up position in the centre of the road, where dense woodland surrounding left no room for the carriage to avoid him or even escape.

Immediately, the carriage ground to a halt. The horses whinnied indignantly from the reins being pulled sharply back. The driver seemed desperate, afraid, even when no weapons had been drawn.

"We have nothing of any worth to your kind," the driver snapped bravely. The colour drained from his slim face when Angeal dismounted and strode over to the large carriage. His long black coat left a swirling trail in the mist between his booted legs.

"Something as rich as this surely must hold _some_ prize," he replied, voice as calm and deep as always. He walked straight passed the Driver, to the door of the carriage and pulled it open. The long white feather in his hat wavered in the breeze created by such a motion. Angeal smiled when his masked violet eyes met with the azure of another, widened with curiosity.

"Well, surely this must have some worth."

"_Some_ worth?" the redhead spat, a sneer plain on his pale, pretty face. "I'll have you know I'm about the most valuable thing in this county at this time." He wore a dark red dress that started as a high, tight collar around his thin neck and ended a few inches past his concealed feet. Hair, a bright crimson, like that of spices rarely seen in this part of the world, was tied back, under a partial veil of ornate flowers and silk.

"No doubt of that." Angeal smiled widely, holding out a gloved hand to the passenger. "Want to stretch your legs?"

A look of relief washed across Genesis' features and he took a hold of the renegade's hand with all the decorum and composure that had been drilled into him since childhood. He even took great care as to not reveal any more than a slight glimpse of his laced black boots as he exited the carriage. Angeal watched, thoroughly pleased that the long wait had paid off. He had been waiting for this day his whole life.

-

People said that the young bride-to-be had been taken by force and subjected to the demeaning life of a farmhand in the countryside, far from the extravagance of the flamboyant life of the aristocracy that he was born and raised into. Though the driver had told the truth - that Genesis had left willingly and held tightly onto the dark masked robe as they rode off through the fields, chasing the night back into mystery - his parents were the ones to spread the fabricated, spun truth. It would do them no good for the irate groom to know the real happening of that morning weeks ago.

Although Genesis had been taken from the life of banquets, wine and superficial company, he was not subjected to any life that he would not have taken willingly. The new circle was more intelligent, worthwhile and interesting than those of the aristocrats. They did not speak endlessly of… what ever they spoke of – the mindless drivel had been long since forgotten.

It had taken Angeal a while to adjust to the new addition to his household. And still, some days the sudden assault of Genesis' scent disorientated him somewhat. Then he would enter the main room of the house after losing his coat, hat and boots to see Genesis lounging on a plush couch, a glass of wine in one hand and a sweet honey cake in the other.

The redhead would smile, but not rise to greet him, as any other claimed mistress should. But the lack of a warm welcoming was acceptable for childhood friends. Their families had drifted apart over time. As the Rhapsodos' grew more and more connected to the royal court, the Hewleys retreated back to the calm tranquillity of the countryside until it got to the stage where their parents completely forgot the others existed.

But when Genesis' parents had organised what they thought was a perfect match in both marriage and convenience, something that would set them up for life as successful socialites, to the single most intolerable and indifferent man in the whole of the empire, Genesis had turned to the one man he knew could save him from the dull and dreary life of marriage from a man whose only passions were silence and solitude. Angeal had been there, by his side, planning the perfect escape.

"Honestly," Genesis sighed, lowering his glass down to the table at the side of the couch and swinging his feet down to the colourful rug. "Why do you still do this?"

Angeal mumbled and laid heavily into an over-stuffed armchair before the fire. He closed his eyes and focused on the crackling of the flames and Genesis' steady breathing as he approached. From the sound he was smirking again. The expensive fabric of his garments rustled against those gorgeous long legs.

"It always leaves you so exhausted," the redhead sighed, wrapping his arms loosely around Angeal's neck and taking up a seat on his lap. Long, delicate fingers tied into the ebony strands of Angeal's hair and pulled his head back gently so he could kiss lightly against his tanned throat. "I might've well stayed with Sephiroth if I'm getting none from you."

Angeal's lips cracked into a smile. He laughed breathlessly. When he opened his eyes, Genesis was staring at him. His eyes were not as defined as he was used to in the latter years of knowing him, when his mother had drowned his naturally sharp and striking features in enough powder and rouge to decorate an entire cast of a London cabaret, but he was nonetheless enchanting. If anything, he was more beautiful to Angeal in this state of natural plainness.

"What?" asked the slightly accented, cultured voice from the redhead's plump pink lips.

"Well, your devoted betrothed has vowed to hunt down the thief that took you from him, and take you back."

Now Genesis laughed. It was a light, musical sound that rang off the glasses and crockery in the room. He looked positively delighted more than amused. His arms tightened around his lover, pulling his head closer. "A good thing I chose you then."

Angeal frowned.

"Just be sure that when he challenges you, you choose to duel with pistols. He's excellent at sword work, but hopeless at shooting."


	5. Chapter 5

77/100: Tense. Genesis, Uesugi Kenshin.  
Just. Don't. Ask. Genesis and Kenshin would be an epic battle.

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* * *

Tense**

Opposition

"This man is a genius."

Genesis' voice came out as a low hiss between bared white teeth. His scarlet hand was a tight fist upon the table where a map of the landscape was laid out. Eyes stared cold, narrow and blue, unblinking, glowering. Little by little, 3rd Classes were marking out the land that had been lost and gained. Little by little, the map was dominated by purple. The opposition. They were losing. ShinRa – the elite SOLDIERs – were losing to an army of men wielding slim swords led by a man who was almost permanently drunk.

That's what had Genesis so frustrated. Whilst he spent each night hunched over this table trying to plot and plan, the other sat in the warmth with a bottle or few of their nation's warm, tasteless wine. Nothing, not even the first great skirmish with Wutai, could've prepared him for this. The Wutainese were fiercely protective of their country and their heritage… but these? These people he just couldn't fathom. Pride, duty and honour-bound.

"He's a fucking _genius_!"

Angeal frowned at suddenly lack of decorum… the lack of anything that made Genesis the man he was. Hair unkempt, eyes dark and tired; his flamboyancy flung to the other side of the tent along with his crimson coat.

"You give him too much credit," the dark haired SOLDIER soothed. He watched as the redhead sighed, standing back up to his full height.

"I can beat him, I know I can… as soon as we get the next platoon of 1st," Genesis said, turning his back to the table and map, preferring a much needed mug of black coffee.

"Then why are you so aggravated?" Angeal asked. He didn't move from his position, leaning over the table, a black pen in hand marking out possible battlefronts for the next few days.

Genesis smirked, turning to face his friend with eyes as curved and sharp as the blades their troops faced in combat during the day. "It's not right. Great hair, beautiful eyes, the man's a genius and fucking gorgeous! He's too much like me!"


	6. Chapter 6

78/100: Wait. Sephiroth/Genesis.  
Originally meant to be shameless wingkink, turned out short and un-smutty. Hohum.

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* * *

Wait**

Our Time Will Come

When Nibelheim burned, the entire sky lit up a shade of ochre like nothing Genesis had ever witnessed before. With the mountains to contain the roaring flames, different from the open, rolling countryside of Banora, the blaze was a trapped beast: intent on complete destruction if freedom was denied it. Although, Genesis knew first hand that a frenzy of devastation led to a quick burn-out. He knew all too well. His affliction – the degradation – was his 'mountains' and the fire, so bright and beautiful, was everything he was, and wanted to regain.

His view from far above was obscure, but enough… enough to see Sephiroth slaying those meek lambs that he had sworn to protect his whole life. Those who worshipped him like the highest exalted god lay in scarlet pools that the fire danced in, giving them a new depth. Genesis could overlook their foolishness, and ignore the envy that still lingered in his heart, as he was pleased to see how Sephiroth was finally fulfilling his true destiny – not the farce ShinRa dressed him up in, rather the web he was inevitably woven into, moulding a fine chess piece, the moment Hojo injected Jenova's cells into his unborn foetus.

In the great game played between the Goddess and the Calamity, would Sephiroth be the monster's Queen – the deadliest weapon – to face Genesis as an equal? Or maybe he would be something less. Fate was unpredictable; the game might take a turn and someone else could step in to take another's place, the scarlet SOLDIER thought bitterly. Each had to make do with what they were given.

Genesis scoffed wordlessly to himself. He had been fooled just as Sephiroth had. His life was a pretence. He was nothing more than a tool with a fanciful façade, built up on fame and strength and admiration but nothing more than a pawn for a corporation that was only too eager to dispose of them when faults were revealed. The three friends were meant for greater things.

It was now impossible to make out the village amongst the flames, brilliantly yellow against the pitch black of the night, and still spreading, ravishing the dry foliage that lined the paths that led into the wilderness. Only the silhouettes of skeletal rafters could be distinguished as they burned before falling to complete ruin. If he could, Sephiroth would have all of Gaia share the same fate.

All around was heat, oppressive and domineering like the arsonist himself, near unbearable in leather and feathers from his elevated view, like the boxes of a theatre. Those seats that suited royalty, if such a thing could exist in ShinRa's conglomerate regime.

Genesis knew the show was a dedication to him; he was the only one intended to watch, and each swing of that slim blade that cleaved cleanly through another petrified villager was made with him in mind. All the destruction was offered as gratification for the heartless, merciless but beautiful manipulator that had opened Sephiroth's eyes and united him with his dreadful mother.

It was an acceptable legacy, one that would undoubtedly live on in some poor soul's memory with consequences far from desirable. Another ignition between the two rival SOLDIERs, as passionate as the last, but a fight between them for each of their chosen deities. Tonight was just between the two of them, perhaps the last they could share before their strings were grasped once again. But Genesis couldn't wait for the game to begin.


End file.
